Soft Hair, Clear Eyes
by Tanpopo
Summary: The first GW fic I ever wrote, and it's still really sweet. TrowaxQuatre.


I took this old fic down and reuploaded it after fixing some formatting errors, etc. It was the first fic I ever wrote and I still think it's pretty sweet. I'm in the process of writing some new stuff, but have been pretty busy since first moving to Japan last year.  
  
Thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed the old version of this fic!!  
  
And, oh yeah, it's yaoi and I don't own GW.  
  
~  
  
  
  
  
Trowa lay awake in the near darkness. He had been on the bed, still in his clothes, for about an hour without any sleep. He couldn't sleep, there was too much on his mind. It was then that he heard a sound in the hall -- his acute hearing, the hearing of a highly trained soldier, picked it up. Probably just one of the other pilots, he thought. When the sound came closer, Trowa sat up in the bed, prepared and alert. The handle of his door moved slightly, then stopped. Trowa reached for his gun when there was a soft rapping on the door, followed by a sweet voice whispering "Trowa? Are you awake?"  
  
Quatre.  
  
He got up from the bed and opened the door, revealing the small blonde boy standing in the hall in his pajamas. Quatre's eyes widened, "Trowa, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come, did I wake you?"  
  
"No. I wasn't sleeping." They were both speaking so quietly it was almost eerie there in the dark where Trowa could only just make out the features of the other pilot -- but he knew it was him -- unmistakably. He would know Quatre even if he couldn't see at all; just his presence was enough.  
  
The boy seemed to be shaking in the hall. Trowa tilted his head, his hair briefly moving to the side so that Quatre caught a glimpse of both of his eyes at once. He's asking me what's wrong. Quatre thought to himself, not what I'm doing here – what's wrong. With a sigh of relief he answered. "I couldn't sleep either." He managed to say, but he couldn't bring himself to ask to come in.  
  
"You're shaking." Trowa said.  
  
"It's... I'm cold."  
  
"Come in." He moved aside to let the Arabian boy enter his room. Quatre entered and turned when he heard the sound of the door closing, his heart beating faster.  
  
"It's warmer in here with the door closed." Trowa said, answering the unasked question.  
  
"Trowa, I hope I'm not bothering you, but it's so cold in my room and I..." I felt lonely. "...I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Sit down." Trowa instructed, patting the edge of the bed.  
  
Nervously the blonde pilot sat down on the bed. Trowa's bed. he thought, taking a deep breath.  
  
Trowa sat beside him, somewhat apart. Quatre found himself wondering what his fellow pilot had been doing in his room in the dark, fully clothed, if he had not been sleeping. It was so dark and quiet that Quatre almost felt scared. At least I'm not alone anymore.  
  
"Are you still cold?" Trowa asked, suddenly.  
  
"A little."  
  
Quatre could feel rather than see Trowa shift on the bed, then he felt warmth as Trowa draped a blanket over his shoulders, one of his hands briefly brushing against the side of his neck. Quatre shuddered, clutching the blanket to him. It smells like Trowa. He thought, It has his warmth. He felt Trowa move again, this time leaving the bed, and in a moment soft subtle light entered the room as Trowa opened the window shade just a bit. Trowa didn't explain why he did it, didn't even really admit to himself that he wanted to be able to see those features, and those blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight.  
  
"Thank you." Quatre said.  
  
Trowa tilted his head again.  
  
"For the blanket, I mean. And for letting me come here. If I'm bothering you, please tell me and I'll go."  
  
In a way Quatre was bothering him, but he wasn't about to make him leave. He sat back down on the bed -- maybe it was the light but Quatre imagined that he sat a little closer this time. Finally Quatre got up the nerve to ask his question:  
  
"Trowa, what were you doing in here before I came? I mean, if you weren't sleeping."  
  
"Thinking." Trowa answered.  
  
Quatre was still considering whether or not he should ask what he was thinking about when Trowa continued.  
  
"I was just lying here thinking. It's hard to sleep sometimes." Alone.  
  
"I know." The blonde boy nodded, "Are you worried about the mission?"  
  
Trowa shook his head.  
  
Of course not, Quatre told himself, he's probably never worried about his missions. Not half as much as I worry about him. The thought made him suddenly say, "Then what were you thinking about?" and in the silence that followed Quatre felt like he couldn't breathe. Why did I ask him that? I'm prying. He probably wants to be alone. I should leave.  
  
"You." Trowa said. It was so quiet, his voice so low, that at first Quatre thought he had imagined it.  
  
"W- what?" He said.  
  
"I was thinking about you." Trowa repeated.  
  
Quatre started to breathe again.  
  
That's enough. Trowa thought, I shouldn't have said it. I don't know why he came here tonight, but I shouldn't... He shook his head. I was just being honest, following my feelings. I was thinking about him, but he doesn't know what I was thinking.  
  
Quatre managed to look over at the other pilot's face, and he would swear that Trowa was blushing. He didn't know what to say. What does he mean he was thinking about me? He must know how much I... but I've never said anything. I'm afraid. A tear formed in Quatre's eye, and, silently, slid down his cheek -- but it was stopped half way.  
  
Trowa lifted his finger from Quatre's cheek and the drop of wetness on it sparkled in the moonlight. "Don't cry." He said. He wanted to take the small boy in his arms, comfort him, ask him what was wrong, ask him to stay.  
  
"Trowa." Quatre whispered, shocked at his friend's gesture.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just don't want you to be sad. What's wrong?" Quatre closed his eyes. In the moonlight he looked like an angel, like something perfect and beautiful, fragile, yet strong. I'm not sad. Quatre thought, not when I'm with you. But he couldn't say it. How could he? What would Trowa's reaction be? He couldn't bear it if Trowa started to avoid him, or worse yet -- if he was disgusted. He couldn't bear to be rejected by the one person he needs the most.  
  
Suddenly Quatre felt a warm feeling on his lips. He leaned forward, eyes still closed. I'm dreaming, he thought. But he wasn't. His eyes opened slowly to watch Trowa -- his Trowa, slowly pull away.  
  
Trowa searched blue eyes for rejection, but found only shock and adoration. He sighed with relief.  
  
"Trowa." Quatre said, "You kissed me."  
  
"I know."  
  
Quatre leaned forward and brushed the brown hair from Trowa's face, looking into his eyes.  
  
"That's... that's what I was..." Trowa whispered.  
  
That's what he was thinking about. "Was it like you imagined?" Quatre asked, his lips still tingling from the brief contact.  
  
Trowa was silent.  
  
"No?" Quatre asked, almost disappointed.  
  
Trowa took the hand that Quatre still held to his face. "What I imagined was you kissing me." He finally said.  
  
Quatre smiled. He placed his free hand on the back of the other boy's neck, and moved himself closer on the bed. "Like this?" He leaned forward to meet Trowa's mouth again as the taller pilot wrapped his arms around him. Trowa felt Quatre's tongue parting his lips, licking at his teeth, and he opened his mouth, allowing him access. Quatre laid claim to the warm recesses of his mouth, playing with his tongue, savoring the sweet taste of his kiss -- the feeling of being in his arms. Trowa could feel the smaller boy's overpowering hunger -- the kiss deepening, until they finally had to separate for air -- Quatre gently biting at Trowa's bottom lip before releasing him.  
  
Both boys remained in that embrace for some time, catching their breath. Quatre licked at Trowa's lip, where he had given him the little love bite. "Was that like you imagined?" He asked.  
  
Trowa whispered softly, loving, into Quatre's ear, "Better."  
  
  
~  



End file.
